


I Want It All (To Be Over)

by Alexverlaine



Series: Alex Verlaine’s Hollywood [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Spelling & Grammar, Gen, Internal Monologue, Mild Angst, Ramblings, bad formatting, inner turmoil, kinda mean narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 05:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexverlaine/pseuds/Alexverlaine
Summary: A young filmmaker angsts over the trials and tribulations of fame.
Series: Alex Verlaine’s Hollywood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216310





	I Want It All (To Be Over)

**Author's Note:**

> I had a roleplay account as a character I came up with named Robert Turner. This was something I had posted.

“I’m not desperate for approval,” I think to myself. Why would I need to be? Things have been going well for me. I’ve made two moderately successful films, and I’m already a bit of a celebrity of sorts. I got a couple waiting outside my house every morning. I have a healthy pile of fan mail. The journalists act like they despise me and write condescending op-eds on whether someone of my stature should be behaving this badly, but the next day they’re begging me for an interview so I can say more pithy insults I don’t mean and rile some more folks up. I’ve been working on the script for my third film, and it’s going well.

“I’m not desperate for approval,” I whisper to myself in the mirror as I’m getting ready for another one of those interviews. Who wants to be like everyone else? All the filmmakers I idolized as a teenager have settled down and gotten old. Most of the rockstars have too. Rock and roll lore says I haven’t got much time, so why not make the most of it? I’ve trashed my fair share of hotel rooms. I’ve bad-mouthed my peers and mocked those who came before me. I smoke and drink, but never at the same time (I’m not that careless, although I wish I were). I don’t think my work would be as successful if not for me, the loud, brash mastermind behind it. I’m giving the kids something to aspire to. Who doesn’t want to do that?

“I’m not desperate for approval,” I sneer to the poor guy that’s interviewing me for the Times. Why would I want to be? He’s not much older than me. He asks what I think about all the press surrounding me. He wants to know what I think about those who believe I’m a bad role model for today's youth. He interrogates me about those that I admire that say I’m a phony who is disgracing the art of cinema with my party hardy antics. He questions me about my connections.  
He tells me about my uncle, a man he barely knows. I tell him he got my first script seen by studio executives but that he doesn’t have half the brains or the guts or the skill that I have. Before I leave, he goes up to me and says, “I’m sorry that you feel you have to act this way to be successful.” I look into his eyes and give him the impression that his words had affected me when in reality, I was thinking to myself, “I’m sorry you feel the need to profit off of my behavior and then criticize it.” 

“I’m not desperate for approval,” I remind myself again before opening a copy of one of those Hollywood insider magazines I subscribe to for my own amusement. Whose approval do I want? Uncle Stephen is on the cover. He’s talking about Martin Scorsese and Robert Altman and Hal Ashby, and above all, himself. He’s telling the reporter things he promised he’d never tell anyone but me. The writer asks him to name some great young filmmakers he thinks are “changing the game.” He doesn’t mention me. I toss the magazine across my living room. I don’t try to pretend I’m not desperate for approval.


End file.
